


Slavery, Not Servitude

by I_Write_Sins_and_Tragedies



Series: Soul on Fire [2]
Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Gen, The Grimm Troupe, existential crisis at 3 AM, mentions of mind control, slightly depressing but with a hopeful ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:02:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21608761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Write_Sins_and_Tragedies/pseuds/I_Write_Sins_and_Tragedies
Summary: Uncertainty was all that Grimm had been feeling since he'd awoken.
Relationships: Grimm & Grimmchild (Hollow Knight), Grimm & The Knight (Hollow Knight)
Series: Soul on Fire [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1556929
Comments: 5
Kudos: 127





	Slavery, Not Servitude

Grimm could hardly believe his eyes as he watched the small knight drifting into slumber. That they would do so willingly in his presence, so soon after their last battle, was either a great sign of foolishness or trust. Perhaps both, perhaps neither. Perhaps the little vessel was simply tired.

Perhaps, perhaps. So much uncertainty for one bug. And yet, uncertainty was all that Grimm had been feeling since he'd awoken.

It felt like there was a void in his mind. As though someone had reached into his head and scooped out something rather large that he'd been unaware of. Whether that emptiness was a relief or a curse remained yet to be seen in the long run. In the short run, Grimm could only describe his feelings about it as panic over change.

For a traveler such as himself, fearing change was entirely unnatural. With every incarnation of the Troupe, with every incarnation of himself, there always came vast amounts of change. New lands, new bugs, new sights to be seen and performances to be had.

The difference was that this was a wholly different sort of change. This was the kind of change that entailed something permanent, something truly drastic, and something that was far beyond Grimm's control.

If he'd ever had such a thing to begin with.

Such a thought came to him unbidden and slightly bitter, although it really was more befuddled than anything. For as long as he could remember, Grimm had always carried himself with a sense of poise and purpose. Always mindful of his appearance, always deliberate with his actions. It had all felt so natural, so ingrained into his being, that he hadn't once questioned why he'd done it at all, much less spent time wondering if he honestly enjoyed what he did.

He did, did he not? He quite enjoyed his performances, painful though some of them were. And the places he'd visited, the sights he'd seen - those were exciting, yes? And even more, the bugs he'd met! They were pleasant, interesting folk more often than not, even if some lives were made shorter by Grimm's own claws. All in the service of- in service of the Heart...

How easy Grimm found it, to write off any possible wrongdoings of his as necessary sacrifices for the Nightmare's Heart. How easy it had been for him to glide through his life in a steady march towards his own death for the Heart's sake, not a thought spent on himself. His own wellbeing was negligible, because he-

Because-

Well, because he was just doing his part.

For the being that lorded over the Troupe. Not _his_ Troupe, he was realizing with greater clarity with every passing moment. The Nightmare's Troupe.

It was one thing to understand that he was born into a lifelong duty. It was another thing entirely for Grimm to come to the realization that he had never had even the inkling of a choice in the matter.

The assumption that he had simply wanted to had never been questioned. Not by Brumm, not by Divine, not by any one of the many underlings, and certainly not by Grimm himself. It hadn't occurred to him before. It was absolutely occurring to him now, for as little as he knew how to face the possibility.

Had he wanted to? It wasn't even just that he did not know, but that he now doubted that he'd even had the mind to know. For as long as he could remember, in this life and the many, many ones before it, he had done the Heart's bidding with no complaint, remorse, or question. It was only now that the little knight had dealt mortal wounds to the great being that Grimm could even find it within himself to consider such possibilities.

They felt almost blasphemous in his mind. The Troupe was all he had ever known, from birth to death and back again. He was a cog in a machine, unquestionably suited to its role, crafted for a singular purpose. And now that machine had ground to a halt. No more need for cogs. No more need for him.

Grimmchild had been uncharacteristically silent since the three of them had awoken. So much so that when they at last fluttered in front of Grimm, he very nearly startled at their sudden appearance. The child let out a soft, uncertain _nyeehh_ , peering into their father's eyes.

Yes, of course. How could he forget? Grown as he was, Grimm at least had clear thoughts and more than simple instinct to guide him, as off-kilter as he was. The little one was not so privileged. All they knew at such a young age was the pull of flame, the guidance of the Heart. Now they were lacking that, and their cries were beginning to grow more distressed as Grimm failed to fill the gap.

"Hush, small child. No amount of crying will mend things." Grimm whispered. He found himself reaching up, and the child trustingly allowed him to pluck them from the air. Their wings curled around their body and his fingers alike, securing his hold on them as he lowered them to his lap. "Rest now. We will...consider our options come the morning light."

The child seemed content with this simple direction. Their eyes slid shut and they nestled into Grimm's warm hold, needing little time before their breaths became slow and deep. That was, at least, an easy accomplishment, Grimm thought as he stared down at the little bug. They were not as well developed as they ought to be by now, thanks to his own survival.

Really, he wasn't sure what would become of the child - _his_ child - now that the ritual had not only been interrupted, but quite permanently usurped. Would they continue to grow, or remain as they were for the rest of their life? Would they wither away with no scarlet flame to nourish their being, or would more standard foods suffice? Only time would tell, but Grimm could feel an unfamiliar sense of apprehension building in his chest.

Not once had he been apprehensive in his life. Not as he awaited for the knight to gather scarlet flame, not during their first performance together, and not when he had faced what should have been his own death. It was all filled with a sense of expectation and knowing, as though he'd already read ahead in the script and knew what was coming (he had). If anything were to go wrong, there was always the expectation that the Troupe could simply move on and try again elsewhere. No one had accounted for something like this.

Grimmchild crooned softly in their sleep, blissfully unaware of their father's spiraling thoughts. He peered back down at them, watching how the tips of their wing tendrils fluttered with every breath. Watching their peaceful expression, undisturbed by nightmare or dream alike. Would they have gone on to serve the Heart as absolutely as Grimm had? Almost certainly, yes? He had lived through the same cycle. Many times, in fact, even if each iteration was not exactly _him_. Memories passed down from one generation to the next, just enough to mold every Grimm into the same shape, yet different enough that there was always a level of disconnect.

The child in his lap would have been no different, he was sure. Thoughtless servitude until the day they died, content with their role due to unshakeable ignorance to the idea of any other path. Would they have wanted to? It wouldn't have mattered, Grimm suspects. They would have with no concept of want or rejection to their role.

That idea did not sit well with him. Not as well as it should, or perhaps not as poorly as it ought to. His concern for his child had extended to their outliving him, and that was all. He had never paused to think about their happiness or desires, because such concepts were foreign considerations within the Troupe. Happy or not, everyone would put on a smile and continue with the ritual, no questions asked.

It was all so matter of fact. All so linear and direct. All Grimm had ever known, yet now would not ever know. He stared upon his child, and for the first time wondered what future they would have. It would be unlike anything a Grimmkind would have ever experienced before, surely. Even if they found a flare for performance and took a shine to travelling, it would all be because they truly desired it. That in and of itself would be a unique experience for one of them.

Grimm found himself a little envious of the thought, but he failed to dredge up any bitterness. He couldn't resent the child for their circumstances. They were simply luckier than him. That much was becoming apparent. They would grow up acclimated to the unknown, with their own free will intact and only a short lifetime of servitude to unlearn. A hopefully short path to recovery, unlike their father. He would no doubt spend much more time discovering what it was to be singular and...free.

He was free now, to do whatever he pleased, whatever he wished. A vast world of opportunities was very suddenly laid out at Grimm's feet, and he found it all overwhelming. So many places to go, so many hobbies to choose from, so many things he could do, and so little idea of what he wanted to spend his time on. Having an overabundance of personal time was not something he was familiar with.

Perhaps he would indeed wait before trying to choose. There was no rush, Grimm reminded himself. Now that he had genuine control over his own life, he could take his time learning his own wants and desires for what they really were. Why force himself to consider every little detail right then when there was a perfectly safe, largely empty town to rest in right there? The infection couldn't reach them so high up, and the residents seemed much too peaceful to pose any threat.

Yes, he would stay for a while. As long as he needed to. The rest of the Troupe...well, Grimm supposed that they were free to do as they wished as well. Daunting as the thought of losing all familiar companionship was to him, he would not begrudge nor prevent them from leaving if they so chose. Some might even linger in Dirtmouth with him, if they were facing any similar internal crises.

At the very least, Grimm would have his child. Surely he would? The knight didn't seem the cruel sort that would force them apart. Their choice to fight the very Heart of Nightmares was evidence enough, although he had to wonder if they had done it for the Troupe's sake, or to simply protect the world's kingdoms. Either way, it was a selfless, reckless, and rather protective act. A willful one that required some considerable thought.

Imperfect, the old wyrm thought this vessel. Perhaps in the face of the infection, but Grimm could hardly begrudge that fact, looking down at the sleeping ghost at his side. Trusting or not, the poor thing must be exhausted after all of the trials both Grimm and the Heart put them through. It was no wonder they had nodded off so quickly.

That exhaustion became all the more apparent when Grimm carefully lowered the knight onto a rather plush pillow he'd slipped from storage. They seemed the type to wake up from so much as a leaf landing on their head, yet they didn't even twitch when they were laid down. All for the best, really. They needed their rest, as did Grimmchild. The little one had just as uneventfully settled onto their own pillow, blissfully unaware of Grimm's hands' absence.

There was something akin to fondness in Grimm's heart, looking over the sleeping pair. Gratitude, fragile in its youth, for the knight. He owed them a great debt, certainly, as did the rest of the Troupe.

Speaking of which...

On silent feet, Grimm left his quarters behind. He had left the rest of his kin in anticipation for long enough. It was time to discuss a future without the Nightmare's Heart. A future of freedom. 


End file.
